And here he'd been thinking she'd been showing off her body.
She'd been hiding the God damned Garden of Eden.
Those round, spectacular breasts.
The tightest waist he'd ever seen.
And as he nosed down her belly … pure heaven.
She whimpered as he slid his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her high enough that his mouth brushed against her core.
No more foreplay.
He needed to feast on her.
This was going to be the main event tonight. He was going to make her come on his tongue, on his face. Over and over again until she was sated. Until he'd made saying yes completely and utterly worth her while.
It was too dark to see her clearly, which he hated, but as he nuzzled her mound, then found the top of her slit, and her clit just beneath, he found himself reveling in the dimly lit coupling. Their secret passion, protected by the dark and the storm.
And here in his room, on his bed, Cara opened for him, giving him every last inch of her. He slowed down, ignoring the staccato pace his thudding heart wanted him to set.
He was going to explore her folds slowly … carefully … and thoroughly. Find out where she liked the flat of his tongue and when she needed a firmer flick. If she liked having her lips sucked or nibbled, or she liked him working her clit as much as he enjoyed the feel of that firm, aroused bud in his mouth.
When she started jerking up to meet his ministrations, he tightened his grip on her thigh with one hand and pressed the other against the flat of her belly.
The immediate flood of moisture against his tongue told him she liked being held down. A lot.
Fuck, he wanted to flip her over and rail her into the bed.
He wouldn't. Couldn't.
But he wanted to so much his dick ached and he ground his hips against the mattress.
"I'm getting close," she whimpered.
"Good. Come for me."
"No … ." She shifted restlessly as he licked around her clit, faster now. "Yes … ."
"Yes."
"No!" She laughed and tangled her fingers in his hair, weakly tugging him away from her sex. "Come here."
He shook his head as he lifted up onto all fours. "Can't." Fucking liar. He could. His body wanted to so much it hurt.
She licked her lips and glance between their bodies, down to where his dick bounced against her leg.
Slow as molasses, she reached between them and like she had magnetic superpowers, he shifted up her body until his cock slid into her palm.
With a tight grip, she stroked his length. Did she know that with each downward pulse, she rubbed his throbbing crown against her belly? That a bit of his pre-come wiped against her skin, marking her in hungry little licks?
He braced his knees between her thighs, against the mattress, and held himself over her on one forearm. With his free hand, he caressed her, from her wet, parted lips, over her breasts and down her belly. Their arms jockeyed for a moment, and then he found her wet and open for him, ready for his fingers.
The first thrust inside her stole her breath. She gasped, then froze at the top of the inhale, like she knew it would be hard to take another.
Hard to fucking breathe? He knew the feeling. She had him twisted inside out from a hand job.
IF CARA HAD HAD ANY DOUBTS ABOUT WHETHER THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA OR NOT-and she really hadn't, not after that first kiss-they would have been evaporated by the intensity of this moment.
Mick slid another finger inside her, whispering how beautiful she was. How wet she was for him, like she couldn't feel the slickness at the tops of her thighs.
He was wet, too. As she jerked him slowly between their bodies, warm, sticky lubrication slowly coated her fingers. She was on the Pill, and took it regularly. Every morning with her breakfast, even after moving into that ridiculous tent.
They could …
But no. They weren't even dating. They hadn't talked about their histories.
This was a freak event, spurred on by the storm and their constant fighting. This was chemistry, nothing else.
He stared down at her, watching her so solemnly as they worked each other closer and closer to the dirty, sweaty pinnacle they both so desperately wanted.
Nothing more than chemistry?
Try another lie, she told herself. That one didn't work. She cupped his cheek with her free hand and he bent down, their lips brushing in an almost kiss as her desire started to spool inside her. Tighter. Faster. His breath fanned across her mouth as she arched beneath him, tipping her head back. His lips fell on her neck, searing her skin as she exploded around his fingers.
Her own grip flew faster, up and down his shaft until he cried out, his release spilling hot and wet against her fingers, her belly …
And then he was on her again, no space between them. Nothing left but their lips and their sighs, and they were one as they kissed. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, holding her tight against his body.
She yawned. She couldn't help it. "We should shower," she said drowsily.
"Wait here."
She lay flat on her back, staring up at the bunk above as he crawled over her. A few steps and he was out the door. Water ran, then he returned, and carefully cleaned her belly, her hands, and between her legs.
She blushed, but it was too dark for him to see that-she hoped.
When he returned, he rolled her over and spooned her from behind, his big, solid arm warm as it wrapped around her. "Go to sleep, kitten."
She kissed his biceps. "Hell of a first kiss."
He chuckled against her hair. "I know, right?"
"Are we going to get to do this again?"
"Hell, yes." He growled.
She grinned as she closed her eyes. "Do you want to talk about-"
"Nope." He pressed his hand to her belly. "Go to sleep."
She'd never slept naked with someone before.
It turned out, it was pretty wonderful.
TEN
MICK WATCHED CARA DRIFT OFF TO SLEEP. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her lashes sweeping against her cheeks. The tips of them were blonde, then darker against her skin. He wondered-not for the first time-if her wild hair was a natural mix of blonde and brown or if she did something to make herself look even more the part of the perfect, exotic Caribbean princess.
He chuckled to himself. Would she hate that? She was ruthlessly professional. But on the other hand, she wore those short shorts that made him crazy and danced like nobody was watching while she worked.
He was quickly learning that this island beauty didn't play by any rules he recognized.
When his phone vibrated what felt like a minute later, he was surprised to see dawn breaking out the window. Huh. He'd slept after all-hadn't been sure he could, because he didn't want the night to end. Maybe he'd drifted off somewhere between competing thoughts of could he be any sappier and how did she smell so amazing?
His phone sounded again. It would wake her up if he didn't check that message.
He climbed out of bed, rubbing his thigh with the heel of his hand, more out of habit than actual pain. That was a fucking relief. Cara was the first woman he'd slept with since before he was injured, and it wasn't like he'd given any thought to being careful the night before.
Except for with Cara. Of course he'd been careful with her. The wave of tenderness that washed over him should have surprised him-and, if it had ever happened in the past, would have embarrassed him. But he couldn't stop looking at her, marvelling at how right it ha felt to be with her, to hold her and love every inch of her body.
Would they do it again?
Fuck. He wanted to wake her up and do it again right now, but the woman had earned her rest.
He swiped his phone and punched in his password. The text was from Will. Just hang tight.
Three words. How many messages had he sent? He'd gone into town to email the guy before a God damned hurricane struck, and that's all Will could say?
He glanced over at Cara, curled up in his bed.
Okay, so his friend had called yesterday. And Mick had hung up on him.
But he'd gotten out of bed for Just hang tight? He sighed and threw his phone into his bag.
His stomach rumbled. He should make them breakfast. Cara made a mumbling sound in her sleep and snuggled deeper into the blanket. He looked outside. He should make them breakfast in another hour or two.
Until then, he should burn off some of his frustration in the ocean.
CARA FOUND MICK AT THE BEACH. Dawn had barely broken, but she'd woken up to an empty bed and a quiet sky, and there was a note left on his pillow. Went swimming.
He was a man of few words.
As she watched him move effortlessly through the surf, racing away from shore with huge, powerful strokes through the water, she found herself wondering what he would make of the plantation-other than the gun range and all the other horrifying renovations he threw at her that first day.
An executive training facility, he'd said. Mick? Training people? That would require talking. Although he had a certain charm, when he wasn't thinking about it. When he was teasing …
She blushed and burrowed her toes in the sand.